I breathe out a sigh of relief, knowing he’s going to give me what I need.
I do as he says, removing all my clothes, then bend myself across the table.
He wraps rope around my wrist then stretches it across the table, tying it to the legs on the other side, then moves down my legs, tying off my ankles. He grabs my throbbing erection, stroking it twice before wrapping a piece of rope around my cock and balls. He lays a riding crop beside my head, and my breathing picks up.
“The level of pain you require has gotten insane,” he mutters. “You remember what to say?”
“Yes,” I answer, then tell him the word we chose years ago when we discovered our proclivity for this.
When the first slap comes, a weight sitting on my chest lessens. My mind shifts, focusing on the physical sensation, letting go of the bullshit cluttering my brain. Lash after lash I relinquish my hard-fought control and embrace the anger until I roarwith a primal scream. I let the rage and destruction running below the surface rise and boil over as I struggle against the hold of the ropes.
This need to destroy and devour is relentless, but I manage to keep it contained until it’s too much. Until I know I’m on the verge of tearing everything apart. This right now, the physical pain and mental release, has been the only thing keeping me in check for years.
When he releases the ties that bind me physically, the rage is finally quelled enough for me to hold back once again. But not enough to be done.
I grab him by the neck, bringing his mouth to mine with a viciousness reserved only for him. He’s the only one that can take my punishment. The only one that wants to. Because we’re both so battered and broken, it’s the only thing that feels right sometimes.
I spin us around, pushing him until he’s on the table. I reach for my jacket that’s lying at our feet, grabbing a condom and lube because I am always prepared. I roll the condom then spread his legs so I can step between him.
I squeeze a generous amount of the wet substance between his cheeks massaging it into his ass as I drop my mouth around his weeping cock. I slowly rolled my tongue over the tip before dropping down, taking his length all the way to the back of my throat. I can feel his body tense and strain with the desire to force more, but he knows not to touch me. Not to take more than I offer. Just like I know he doesn’t like to be restrained. It would make him panic. We push each other to our limits, but we never cross lines that would hurt the other. Not more than we want to be hurt.
Working one then two fingers in and out of him slowly, stretching him for me, he groans and begins to shake. I work his cock with my mouth while I continue to bob up and over him, stroking myself with my free hand, paying extra attention to the piercing at the tip.
I can feel him begin to pulse in my mouth, telling me he’s close. I pull myself away from him, watching his face redden with the strain of holding back. Of handing overhiscontrol. It’s never easy for either of us. But this is our way.
I press the head of my cock against his tight hole, slowly pressing in a little at a time.
“Stop being a fucking bitch and do it,” he growls.
Those words spur me, incite the need that is growing. I drag him from the table and spin him around into the position I was in only minutes ago. I add a bit more lubrication then slide into him, hard and fast.
This isn’t going to be a drawn-out session. There will be no edging like we once engaged in long ago when we wanted to prove we had control. This isn’t about sex or fun.
This is about letting go. Finding that release that only comes when we punish ourselves and each other because no one understands the guilt, anger, and pain I feel better than Maddox. He is my mirror.
I hammer into him, slamming my hips against his. He grips the table in a white-knuckled hold as he groans and moans and swears a string of curses aimed at the world. “Grab it,” I tell him through panting breaths. “Jack yourself off. Now.”
He strokes himself in beat to my relentless pounding. We breathe like oxygen has become a priceless commodity. I can see the muscles in his back ripple with tension. I feel him begin to contract around me. His head raises up with a roar, all the tendons in his neck straining as he spills himself to the ground beneath us. Seconds later, I join him with a roar of my own.
We don’t say anything when we’re done. We are comfortable enough with each other to appreciate the silence. But more so, we appreciate the momentary release we’ve found. That instance of refuge from the torrential storms warring in our minds.
Sweat pours down my face. My body is tired, but my spirit is exhausted. The fight against everything is breaking me down a little more every day. Seeing Heaven was the brutal reminder that I will never have peace. That the only thing that ever felt like home was yanked from me the day she left, and I know it is only a matter of time before everything becomes more than I can bear.
Heaven
“I don’t want her here,” Matt yells for the umpteenth time.
I have been standing between Matt and Nova for two hours. If I don’t, I’m afraid mylittlebrother would hit our sister right in her smart mouth. She doesn’t know when to stop running it, and she doesn’t seem to grasp that our little brother isn’t the twelve-year-old he was a few years ago. He’s a broody, moody testosterone riddled teenage man-child that has gotten more ill-tempered in the last few weeks.
“You can’t make me leave,” Nova shouts. “You try and I’ll get a lawyer.” Her threats are meaningless, but she likes to toss them around regardless.
“With what money?” Matt yells. “Mom and Dad aren’t here for you to steal from them again.”
I jerk back, leveling him with an astonished stare, wondering how he knows this.
“I never stole anything.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Every time you asked for more, you were stealing. They didn’t have it to fucking give, but you kept taking anyway. Why? So, you could keep hopping from city to city acting like a cheap whore?”
